Tumbling Towers
by Bailation
Summary: Ron is sent to New York City for an Auror mission: three days before the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. A tribute story to the tenth anniversary of America's biggest tragedy of the twenty-first century.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING: The 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center is a highly tender subject to most people, especially Americans who were alive to witness the tragedy, like me. If you feel like you are especially sensitive to this subject, and feel the need to criticize this story harshly ("harshly" meaning "beyond constructive criticism" or "unnecessary unkind comments") please save us both the time and DO NOT READ THIS STORY. This story is NOT, in any way, meant to insult the day, or those who died in the attacks. It's to pay tribute to the day in a unique, harry potter-related way. **

**So...please enjoy and NO FLAMES!**

* * *

><p><strong>8 September 2001 <strong>

**9:37 PM**

London's muggle airport was bustling with hundreds of people, just like it did on most days. The sound of a thousand shoes hitting the floor echoed through the huge place, bouncing around Ron's head at a volume louder than usual. As he looked around, he noticed a lot of them were in muggle suits, but most seemed to be preoccupied with finding their next destination.

Ron nervously gripped his wand inside his pocket as he pulled his suitcase with the other. This seemed like the kind of place where Death Eaters would attack. He knew he needn't worry, but though the war had been over for three years, the Auror Department was still finding convicted Death Eaters daily.

Hermione was at his side, her arm sliding into his as she led them to buy a ticket to the next flight to New York. He noticed her worried expression as she received the ticket, the way she wrung her hands like she did when she was nervous. He knew she hated it when he went away for an Auror mission, especially when Harry wasn't with him. He couldn't help feeling a little sorry for himself; he knew she meant well, but he felt as if she didn't think he could look out for himself unless Harry was there with him.

In a haze, he realized Hermione was pushing his ticket into his hand, which now also held his boarding pass and his passport. He suddenly realized he didn't have his suitcase, only his carry-on bag over his shoulder. He looked back and comprehended that Hermione had dropped it off with the rest of the luggage that was going with his flight.

They arrived at his gate, and he numbly sat down as Hermione spoke to the lady behind the desk. He had only been on a plane once before, when he and Hermione had gone to Australia so she could retrieve her parents and fix their memories. This time, the rest of his Auror unit was flying out of the airport in Cornwall and he was alone. They had told him that they would meet up with him at the airport in New York, and he really hoped they would, because he had no idea where to go from there.

Hermione returned from the desk and sat down next to him. "They're going to start to board at ten. Your flight leaves at ten-thirty." She sighed and looked apprehensively out the window at the huge airplanes, which were only visible from their blinking lights in the night. He watched her as she started fiddling with the sparkling diamond on her left hand, her hands shaking as she did so.

He studied her for a moment more, watching as she spun the ring around her finger and look at anything but him. He sighed and gently took her left hand in his. "Love, please stop worrying. I'll be fine, alright?"

Her brown eyes found his and she looked at him reproachfully, as if it was his fault he was being sent across the ocean by his Department. "I wish Harry was going with you. I don't like it when you don't have each other. I know you battle best when you and Harry are together."

He frowned slightly, a bit offended, but he knew Hermione meant well and decided to hold back his anger. "I know." He gently took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'll be careful, alright?"

She nodded, though her eyes now were shining with unshed tears. Ron looked down at the diamond that glittered on hand and squeezed her fingers gently. "I promise, when I get back, we can sit down and start planning this wedding, alright?"

Hermione smiled through the tears that now fell down her face and said seriously, "You swear?" They both knew it wasn't a promise about the wedding at all, but his safety.

"Swear to Merlin." She gave a watery laugh as he planted his lips on various places on her face, kissing the tears away.

It wasn't long until a cool, woman's voice announced above them: "_Attention: Flight 657 is now boarding_."

Hermione's face immediately fell as she faced Ron. "That's you."

He said nothing but wrapped his arms around her, hugging her so tightly that he feared they would soon become one being. He felt her arms fold across his back, and the moisture from her tears darken his shirt.

They stood there locked in their embrace for what felt like forever before Ron finally gently pulled back. He looked into her eyes once more before recklessly capturing her lips with his.

He became aware of every small detail that was happening between them. He felt every curl as he ran his hands through her hair and in contrast, he could feel her hands gripping the hair at the back of his neck. He felt the warmth of her back as his other arm wrapped more securely around her waist…

"_Last call for Flight 657 to board."_

The voice shook Ron from the embrace, and he broke apart from Hermione. She looked up at him sadly and grabbed his carry-on bag, handing it to him. He slung it over his shoulder and gently kissed her one last time.

"I'll be back in a few weeks," he told her, his eyes meeting hers. "I promise."

Then he got in line, handing the woman at the desk his boarding pass. He turned one last time before entering the terminal, waving slightly to Hermione, who waved sadly back.

He boarded the plane, and felt like he had truly left his country, along with Hermione, even though the plane hadn't even left the ground yet.

* * *

><p><strong>4 August 2001<strong>

**5:46 PM**

The bloody ring that had been burning a hole in his pocket for weeks finally was going to be gone.

Ron took out the small box and opened it, picturing what the glittering diamond was going to look like on Hermione's hand. He had finally saved enough to purchase a diamond that was actually visible.

Tonight was going to be the night. Ron had retreated to the flat he shared with Harry right after work to change out of his work robes, and into the emerald green dress robes that had cost him almost as much as the ring. At lunch, he had told Hermione to meet him at his flat after work. She had looked at him curiously, but he had only winked at her and left. There was no way she was going to figure out what he was planning.

At six o'clock, there was a knock on the door, and Ron rushed to open it. Hermione stood before him in a modest black dress, her hair in a messy bun. She seemed to be fussing with herself, smoothing her dress and patting at her hair, but Ron didn't think there was a way to improve such a perfect picture.

"Hermione, you look beautiful," he told her. She beamed and accepted his arm around her.

"Ron where are we going?"

"You'll see," he said with a smirk. From inside his flat, they Apparated to the destination.

The smell of old books was the first to meet Ron, and he knew they were in the right place.

Hermione was looking around with a smile on her face. She turned to Ron and said, "We're in the library at Hogwarts, aren't we?"

He only smiled and snaked his hands around her eyes. "You'll see."

"Ron!"

"Just follow my lead." He stepped forward, and so did she. He led her to the back of the library with his hands over her eyes, where he had found her so many times reading in the window seat, hidden away from the rest of the school.

When he led Hermione around the final turn, he grinned at the sight of two chairs and a table set with candles and an elegant dinner placed in the middle of the huge space in the back of the library. It had cost him two months of savings, but George had pulled through for him.

He removed his hands from Hermione's eyes, and she gasped at the sight. She shot Ron a huge smile as he pulled out one of the chairs for her. Once they were tucked into the dinner, they began to talk about everything there was to talk about. Though they had been best friends for such a long time, they still got to learn something new about the other person every day. Ron realized that no matter how many conversations he had with Hermione, he never got bored. She would talk to him about her day, but he wasn't always listening. Sometimes he would use the time to simply gaze at her features, wondering how on earth he had gotten so lucky.

Halfway into their meal, Hermione was talking about the five essays she had to have done by Friday when Ron felt like his carefully planned proposal was going to burst out of him if he didn't do it now.

"Hermione."

He had cut her off, and her eyes narrowed. When she read his soft expression, however, she said, "Was I talking too much again?"

Ron grinned. "You always do, but I love that about you. Speaking of that, I was just thinking of the reasons why we should get married."

Her eyes widened, but after a moment, she recovered and raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't know," she said as she sipped her brandy with a smirk playing at her lips. "Why should we get married?"

"See, that's the issue I've been dealing with, Hermione. I reckon you have no reason _not_ to marry me, especially because of my charm and good looks." He flashed her a cheeky smile and she looked at him challengingly with a twinkle in her eye.

"Really?" she asked, peering at him with a raised eyebrow. "So what reasons do you have that makes you want to marry me, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron smiled, admiring the way she blushed slightly at their flirtation. "Well, I reckon after ten years of fighting with you, crushing on you -" he reached into his pocket and felt the soft velvet of the small black box. "- and loving you more than anything, I probably should get on with it."

He got out of his seat and bent down onto his knee in front of Hermione. He took out the box and opened it, revealing the sparkling diamond inside. Hermione's hand covered her mouth, her eyes glinting with tears, all signs of flirtation and teasing gone. "Ron…"

"Hermione," he looked up at her seriously now, drinking in every part of her. "Will you do a huge favor for me and make me your husband? I know we fight a lot, but I swear I'll take care of you and love you more than anything else –"

He was cut off when her lips pressed against his, causing him to forget everything he was going to say. She wrapped her hands around his head and tugged him closer to her. He smiled and enveloped her in his arms.

When they finally broke apart, he spoke to her with his lips an inch away from hers:

"Is that a yes, then?"

* * *

><p><strong>10 August 2001 <strong>

**10: 44 PM**

Ron stepped out of his fireplace and onto the hearth, ruffling his hair to get the soot out. He looked up and noticed how dark the flat was. A small crack of light was seen behind his and Hermione's bedroom from the space between the door and the floor. He dropped his briefcase on the kitchen table and approached the door, wrenching it open.

Hermione was sitting cross-legged on their bed, deeply immersed in a book. She looked up when he entered and raised an eyebrow questioningly. He approached her and gently kissed her lips. "Sorry, love. They kept me late again."

"You said you be home at seven, Ron. That was almost four hours ago." She glared at him reproachfully and turned back to her book.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows and fell onto their bed, taking Hermione into his arms. 'I'm sorry, Hermione, I really am. The Department's really keeping me busy –"

"Yes, Ron, my job keeps me busy too!" she burst out, wiggling out of his arms. "But I have an eight-hour day, and I come home at six every night!"

He frowned at her and thought about his day and the news he needed to tell her. She looked away, disgusted, and rolled off their bed, marching into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. He heard the water in the sink turn on and knew she was brushing her teeth to avoid talking to him. He sighed and changed out of his robes, replaying the news he had gotten from his Head Auror in his head.

Moments later, Hermione emerged from the bathroom, frowning at him as she reluctantly crawled into their bed next to him. Before she could pick up her book, however, Ron blurted out, "Hermione, I need to talk to you."

She looked over at him and met his eyes. She seemed to read the earnest in his eyes and said nothing, but gave him her full attention.

He inched toward her and took her hands, feeling her engagement ring under his thumb. He took it as a good sign that she didn't pull away.

"Hermione, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but…they're assigning me to another Auror mission." She seemed to take a sharp intake of breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "For how long?"

He could sense the tears were coming, so he wrapped an arm around her, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Only a month. But it's…it's in New York."

She looked at him incredulously, her eyes lit with a new fire, but this time it was different. It was sadder. "New York? Why do they want to send you there?"

Ron sighed. "Our Head has reasoning to suspect there's a group of Death Eaters building a new sort of cult under the city."

"Under the city? Like…_underground_?"

He nodded, squeezing her hand. "We'll be underground for most of the time. Our Head says we're leaving on the eighth of September. In between then and now, they're be training us to get ready to go underground." He studied Hermione's face apprehensively, watching as her face fell in sadness.

"But – I – you –" she stammered and he squeezed her tighter to his side, kissing her temple. Finally, she burst out, "You _can'_t go underground, Ron, especially is a foreign country, it's too dangerous! And you just proposed! I can't be planning a wedding without you around!" Tears were falling down her face and Ron felt his heart slowly start to break. He embraced her, tucking her head under his chin. He hated himself for putting her through this.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. If I could get out of it, I would, but they're making me go." He was watching her carefully again, gazing at her as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Finally, she sighed and spoke once more. "I suppose I can't do anything about it. Just promise me you'll be careful. Please, Ron, I can't lose you, it would end my world –" She cut off as he kissed away her tears, finally capturing her lips with his. He looked deep into her sad, brown eyes and saw all the worries that were going through her head. He kissed her one last time for the night and said with the strongest earnest he could muster, "I promise, Hermione."

She seemed satisfied, but it was difficult to tell behind her mask of stony sadness. She looked like she was already planning his funeral. He just held her tighter and kissed every part of her face all over again.

Finally, before she fell asleep in his arms that night, she whispered, "Sometimes I really wish you weren't an Auror, Ron."


	2. Chapter 2

**11 September 2001**

**8:49 AM **

The tea kettle on the stovetop whistled as Hermione turned on the television in the living room. The only reason she had bought one of the muggle devices was to keep herself connected with the muggle world. She would watch both the morning and evening news every day, which Ron found quite amusing. He was fascinated by the muggle things that Hermione bought, but he never took them as seriously as Hermione and Harry did.

Hermione turned down the heat on the stove and poured herself a cup of tea. Just as she was placing a piece of bread in the toaster, the voice of the newscaster on the television caused her to suddenly drop her cup, which shattered at her feet:

"_We've just received breaking news from the U.S; only moments ago, Flight 11 crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The plane had departed from Portland, Maine and was scheduled to land in Boston, Massachusetts. American sources say this sudden event could possibly be a terrorist attack…"_

The rest of the words from the newscaster were lost to Hermione. The news station was showing footage of the current state of the North Tower. Black smoke billowed from where the plane had hit, and flames licked at the sides of the tower.

So many thoughts were rushing through her head, making her weak in the knees and forcing her to sit down in the nearest chair. Ron was in New York. He had told her that he would be underground _most of the time_, but not _all the time._ Why hadn't she asked for more information? What if Ron had been above ground when the plane hit? What if, for whatever reason, he had been in the North Tower when it had hit?

She felt panic set in. She stood up and, forcing her legs to work, rushed to the phone on the counter. Another muggle contraption, Ron had said. But for right now, she couldn't b happier that she had one.

Hermione picked up the phone, and realized she had no idea who to call. There was no way Ron was anywhere near a phone, as most of the Aurors didn't even know how to use one. Harry and Ginny also had a landline, but they wouldn't know where Ron was…would they?

Just as she was dialing Harry's number, she glanced over at the television and gasped. A small explosion sudden appeared in the middle of the South Tower. In an instant, she realized she had looked just in time to see another plane hit the other tower. The newscaster was frantic, and Hermione could hear other panicked mutters coming from the people off camera in the newsroom.

Distress began to cloud her brain, and logic suddenly didn't make sense. She stopped thinking and frantically dialed Harry's number. It rang once, twice, three times, and finally, Harry's voice came from the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Are you watching the news?" asked Hermione, her voice shaking with fright. She raised a trembling hand to her forehead and gripped at her hair.

"Yeah, I was just about to call you," Harry sounded just as distressed as she felt. "I'm trying to get connections with the Ministry; they should be in contact with the muggles in New York –"

"Harry, where's Ron?" Hermione interrupted, tears of panic now forming in her eyes. "Do you know where in the city he was supposed to be today?"

"Hermione…" Harry sighed, and she felt her heart break, as if this was the confirmation that Ron was dead. However, she bit her lip and stayed silent.

"Hermione, Ron told me that they were supposed to be underground for most of the mission. But he also said that they would be above ground for part of the time to meet with some of the muggle leaders to get information on the Death Eaters." He sighed again, and her heart started beating faster.

"I really don't know where he is, Hermione. I don't think there was a schedule, either. I think they were playing it by ear. He could be anywhere."

She gave a small gasp of agony and slammed the phone down. She looked over at the television again, which showed a full shot of the two smoking towers. She thought of Ron, and the many possibilities of his current state. She looked down at her engagement ring and quickly decided what she needed to do.

Hermione rushed to her bedroom and yanked open one of her drawers, pulling out the small beaded bag that she hadn't used in three years. She scrambled to the bathroom and dropped five different kinds of dittany into the bag. She opened the drawer and grabbed two rolls of gauze, stuffing them into the bag. She ran back into the bedroom and rifled through her drawer, finding her passport and dropping that into the bag as well.

Hermione ran back downstairs and grabbed her purse, dumping it into to the beaded bag that still held an Undetectable Extension Charm. Her purse held her cell phone and her wallet, along with other necessities. She silently cursed Ron for ignoring her when she had advised him to get a cell phone as well. If he had gotten one, she could've simply called him to make sure he was alright.

Lastly, she checked her pocket for her wand, withdrawing it as she spun on the spot to Disapparate.

Hermione appeared in a back alley in London, only twenty feet from the airport, as she had planned. She looked herself over for Splinching, and when she found there wasn't any, she quickly pulled herself together and entered the airport.

She found an empty ticket booth almost immediately and ran up to the person behind the counter. "I need one ticket to the next flight to New York, please."

The woman behind the counter shook her head. "I'm sorry miss, but we've stopped all flights to the U.S. for the time being due to the turmoil that's happening over there right now."

"There are _no_ flights going to America?" asked Hermione incredulously. "What else is happening over there?"

"It's not just New York. A plane just crashed into the Pentagon in Washington D.C. just a few minutes ago. The Americans think it's a terrorist attack."

This was hard enough to process, but Hermione could hardly stop thinking about the whereabouts of Ron. "So there's_ no_ possible way to get to America? No way at _all_?" She realized she was raising her voice, but she didn't care.

The woman only looked at her with sympathy, as if she knew Hermione was looking for someone in New York. "I'm sorry, miss."

"God _dammit, _my husband's in New York!" yelled Hermione, her patience now completely gone. She realized she referred to Ron as her "husband", but she didn't care. He might as well have been. "What do you expect me to do? Sit home and _hope_ that he's not dead?"

The woman looked surprised, but before she could say anything, a security guard suddenly appeared next to Hermione. "Is there a problem, miss?" He looked at her sternly, and Hermione was able to contain her anger for the time being.

"No, there's nothing wrong," she told the guard. "Absolutely nothing." And with that, she turned on her heel and left the airport.

She returned to the alleyway in which she had Apparated and ripped the bag off her body, throwing it against the wall. Thousands of thoughts were rushing through her head, but they all concluded that she needed to get to New York.

She suddenly realized that she could Apparate to America. Long ago, she had read that if one would Apparate to a destination that's such a large distance away, they would be putting their life in danger. Hermione remembered the book saying that it was highly advised not to Apparate between countries. For this, either muggle flying or Portkeys were safer.

She groaned out loud, running a hand through her hair. She was nowhere near any kind Portkey, and she had never learned the spell that turned an object into a Portkey. How stupid could she be? Since when did she pass up an opportunity to learn a spell?

She was running out of time; Ron could either be dead or horribly injured. And Hermione knew enough about muggle buildings to know that those towers would eventually collapse, possibly killing more people.

In an instant, she decided what to do. She picked up her bag and slung it around her body once more and concentrated on Apparition harder than she had ever done in her life.

_Destination…Deliberation...Determination... _

She turned on the spot and felt the familiar sensation of harshly being squashed at all angles of her body.

When she reappeared, the first thing she realized was that she was alive in an unknown alleyway. She heard sirens from all around and knew she had to be in the right place.

But something was very wrong. Excruciating pain brought her attention to her arm. She almost fainted at what she saw; a huge chunk of her forearm was missing, as if scooped away with knife. Her arm now looked like a raw, bloody, piece of meat.

Never in her life had she Splinched herself so badly, but she had expected worse, especially since Apparating between countries was anticipated to kill her. She wished she could just lie down and allow the blood loss to put her to sleep, but she remembered Ron and kept her head. With her uninjured arm, she rifled through her bag and found the right bottle of dittany that she knew would reduce the pain and heal the wound.

She shakily applied the right number of drops (wincing at the slight pain) and watched as the wound sizzled and smoked. New skin sewed itself over the wound as Hermione dug through her bag once more and found the gauze. She unwrapped the roll with one hand and tore a long piece off with her teeth. She wrapped the piece, with difficulty, around her wound. As soon as she checked over the rest of her body to make sure she hadn't Splinched anywhere else, she dumped the dittany and gauze into her bag and ran out of the alleyway.

What she saw next was absolutely devastating. In front of her, only a few blocks away, stood the two burning towers she had seen on her television in her flat in London. Ghostly-looking people were rushing past her, covered in debris, and white dust and ash. Some of them were dragging along other injured bodies. The one thing that they all had in common was that every single one of their faces was filled with anguish.

As crowds of people rushed past her, she started to run the opposite way, pushing herself against the throng. The towers began to get closer and closer, and Hermione became more frantic, as not one single person who was passing her looked like an Auror, or like Ron.

Finally, she was within a block of the burning towers, and the air was thick with smoke. Hermione whipped out her wand and performed a spell to block the smoke around her mouth and nose. The muggles around her didn't seem to notice; they were too preoccupied with running from the thick clouds of smoke.

Just as she was meters within the South Tower, she stopped. Was she really going to go in, to maybe find out that Ron wasn't in the building anyway?

She made up her mind immediately, her hand on her wand in her pocket so the muggles couldn't see. Just as she was running toward the entrance to the Tower, a hand grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.

"Hermione!"

She knew that voice. Relief flooded her body as she looked round and met the eyes of a very familiar redhead.

"R-Ron?"

Ron Weasley stood in front of her in his Auror uniform, which the people around him seemed too busy to question. He was so deeply covered in white dust that Hermione could hardly recognize him. Once she saw through the layer of dirt, however, relief caused her to nearly faint.

"Ron!" She flung her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder, threading her fingers through his hair. He smelt of ash, but she inhaled every part of him, embracing him harder than she ever had.

Ron seemed utterly startled to see her in New York. "Hermione, what are you doing here? Why aren't you home?"

"I saw the second plane hit on T.V., and I thought – I thought –" She broke down into tears again and hugged him harder. His own arms wrapped around her, stroking her hair and patting her back. He seemed to understand despite her inability to form a sentence.

She finally drew back and Ron caught sight of her bandaged arm. "What happened? Who did that to you?"

"No one," she assured him. "I – I Splinched myself Apparating from London. I probably shouldn't have done it, but I needed to find you Ron, I needed to know you were okay –"

She was cut off by a sudden tremble of the earth beneath their feet. They looked down and saw the earth was beginning to shake harder. She gripped Ron's arm and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her closer to him.

Together, they looked up at the tower above them and it dawned on them at the same time that the building that had been struck by a plane only an hour before was beginning to collapse.


	3. Chapter 3

**11 September 2001**

**9:59 AM**

The realization of the fact that the South Tower was collapsing before their eyes hit Ron almost instantly. A cloud of smoke and dust was now melting over the remains of the Tower that was still temporarily standing, and rapidly falling over the crowd beneath the Towers.

Ron's reaction was immediate; he grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her through the crowd, running as fast as he could, away from the falling dust and debris that was now enveloping the area around the Towers.

He looked behind him and caught sight of Hermione's terrified face, tear tracks cutting dark lines through her dust-covered face. He tugged on her arm so she quickened her pace to keep up with his speed. Behind her, the clouds of dust were so thick that it was impossible to see anyone or anything beyond them.

As the two of them ran from the falling tower, they dodged several falling pieces of cement, brick, and any other debris that were cutting through the smoky clouds in order to harm the panicking civilians.

The smoke had now enveloped Ron and Hermione, and they both wrapped an arm around their noses and mouths. Ron's eyes were burning, and it was impossible to see which way they were going. But he kept leading her straight as best as he could, hoping they would encounter fresh air sooner or later…

A small sound between a gasp and a scream grabbed Ron's attention as Hermione's hand slipped from his. He frantically whipped his head round and found her kneeling a foot behind him, her eyes squeezed shut in pain as she gripped her arm. She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes as his line of sight drifted to her right shoulder, which now bore a huge, bloody gash through her torn shirt. A large piece of cement was smashed in front of her.

Quickly, Ron pieced together what had happened and, with his rapid Auror instincts, scooped Hermione up off the ground and ran through the smoke and dust, dodging more debris on the way.

He was faintly aware of the fact that Hermione's left arm, which was gripping the back of his neck, tightened around him as she gasped in pain of her right arm, which lay uselessly in her lap. She was coughing constantly due to the smoke, while he held his breath as long as he could. She finally buried her face into his jacket, hiding her nose and mouth from the poisoned air.

The only thought that had inhabited Ron's brain at the moment was getting Hermione to safety. His only destination was anywhere out of the deadly dust and smoke…

And all of the sudden, the air began to clear. The two of them gave huge gulps of the semi-fresh air as Ron looked behind him and saw that they were now a great distance from the Towers; the clouds and smoke had covered the whole perimeter of the area for hundreds of feet.

He began to jog away from the Towers again when Hermione groaned in his arms. Her face was a ghostly pale and she seemed to be losing consciousness.

"Stay with me, Hermione, we're almost there!" said Ron frantically. He was now in a stage of panic as he ran the two blocks necessary to get to the one sanctuary that was safest for the both of them…

He turned a corner and saw the place for which he had been looking: the tube.

He rushed down the stairs into the semi-darkness, darting around more panicking people who had ducked underground for safety. He ran along the platform, constantly looking back at Hermione, who was now unconscious. He shook her slightly, but it did nothing to wake her.

"Dammit," whispered Ron, as tears slowly began to form in his eyes. He turned into an alleyway two feet after the sign that read "RESTROOMS UP AHEAD" and let go of Hermione's legs to fish his wand out of his pocket.

He recovered it quickly and tapped five bricks in the wall. There was a pause, and the wall began to slowly melt away. Behind it, a team of twelve Aurors were revealed to him.

Dean Thomas, who was the best at healing, was the first to approach them. Though his eyes widened when he saw that it was Hermione who lay in Ron's arms, he didn't ask any questions and led them over to an empty cot in the corner of the room as the brick wall closed behind them.

As Ron lay Hermione gently onto the cot, the other Aurors began to crowd around them, astonished to see her in America. Interrogations began to come from every direction as Ron gripped Hermione's pale left hand.

"How'd she get here, Ron?"

"Weasley, why is Hermione here?"

"Did you tell her to come?"

Ron ignored every question as he watched Dean apply some strong-smelling potion to Hermione's shoulder. Her brow furrowed as she began to stir, and he watched her jaw set as she clenched her teeth in pain. She squeezed his hand and he brought their tangled hands to his lips, where he slowly kissed her knuckles, his eyes set on her face.

He was slightly aware of Seamus Finnigan telling the other Aurors to back off and to give them some space. Ron silently thanked him and continued to watch Dean's actions as he worked on Hermione.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Dean told Ron, who felt like he may faint himself. "I'm trying to fix her up the best I can, and I think she'll be fine."

Ron felt his head swim at those words. He looked down at Hermione once again and noticed her expression looked disturbed and restless. He traced his fingers down her left arm and glanced at her shoulder.

The injury looked a bit better from the potion, but it still looked excruciatingly painful. Dean was unscrewing the cap off of a bottle of dittany when Ron caught sight of Hermione's eyes cracking open. He had never been so happy to see those brown irises look tiredly up at him.

"Hey, Hermione," he said shakily, repositioning his hand in hers. "Dean's fixing you up. This is only going to sting for a moment, alright?"

He hated telling her that more pain was on the way, but she nodded as she squeezed her eyes shut. He looked at Dean and gave a small nod. Dean applied the few drops of dittany needed as Hermione gripped Ron's hand until her knuckles turned white.

As Dean wrapped a bandage around Hermione's shoulder, he caught sight of her other arm, which was wrapped from her previous injury.

"What happened there?" asked Dean, gesturing to her forearm. Hermione was dozing off again, so Ron answered,

"She Splinched herself when she Apparated from _London_," he said. Dean looked dumbfounded as he tied her bandage.

"_London_ to _New York_?" he asked incredulously. "Is she mad?"

"I've always thought so," said Ron, now kneeling at Hermione's bedside and stroking his thumb across her knuckles. "She saw the planes hit on television and panicked."

Dean was silent for a few moments before busying himself by wrapping Hermione's Splinching injury with a new bandage.

"Looks alright," he mumbled as he looked over her forearm. "She did a good job cleaning it up. Always knew this girl was brilliant under pressure." Ron gave a small smile as Dean wrapped her arm with a new bandage.

The color was slowly returning to her face, Ron noticed. He let out a shaky breath of relief as he stroked her hair away from her face and gently kissed her forehead.

As Dean put away his medicines and potions, he spoke to Ron, "she needs to rest. She should wake in a few hours, but for now, what she needs most is to sleep. It looks like she's been through a lot."

Ron sighed unevenly and kissed Hermione's hand once more. Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly. "She'll be fine, Ron. You were really lucky this time."

Hermione now looked peaceful, and it took Ron a few moments to really believe that she would be alright. When he finally did, he was able to loosen his death grip on her hand and finally semi-relax.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Hermione began to stir. Ron immediately adjusted himself next to her and watched as her eyes slowly cracked open.<p>

He was the first thing she saw. Her tired eyes focused on him as her lips parted to form his name. "Ron…"

"Hermione," he whispered, relief crashing over him. "We're safe, Hermione. Dean healed you and said you should be fine." He repeated these words to her, but they were mainly for him to believe.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I just cause trouble wherever I go –"

"Hermione, what are you on about?" Ron asked incredulously. "You were worried. You didn't cause this whole disaster to happen, you just were concerned about me. I would've done the same."

For the first time, Hermione smiled, and Ron's world seemed to become brighter again. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said, leaning forward to kiss her temple. "Merlin, Hermione, when I saw you on the ground, I thought –"

"I'm fine, Ron," said Hermione, lifting her arm gingerly to cup his face in her hand. "Where are we?"

"We're underground," said Ron. "In a hidden chamber in the tube. We've got locations all over the city in order to find the Death Eaters that were hiding out."

"So why were you by the World Trade Center?" asked Hermione weakly, her anguish-filled eyes searching his.

"Well, we've planted some spies throughout the city above ground to see if they could find where the Death Eaters were." Ron sighed as he remembered the past few weeks. "A few days ago, one of them came back and reported that he had spotted a few Death Eaters in an alleyway by the Twin Towers. So they sent me and three other Aurors above ground to investigate for a few days. When the first plane hit, I was already above ground. I didn't go back underground again because I figured I should help the muggles while I had the chance.

"But shortly after the second plane hit, I saw you outside the South Tower. I had no idea why you would be here or if it was even possible for you to be here, but I knew it was you, even from the back."

Ron sighed as he tangled their fingers tighter together. He felt Hermione move as she slowly sat up. She put her other hand on top of his and leaned her forehead against his. "I'm sorry. I saw the planes crash and I went mad. I had no idea where you could be in the city, and I thought you might be in the Towers. I t-thought I might've lost you."

Tears were now falling down her face, which was still covered in dust. Ron felt like his heart was breaking just to see her upset. He relinquished his hold on her hands and brushed his thumbs across her face to catch the tears. Her eyes met his, and cut through his heart with the sadness they held.

"Don't be sorry, Hermione," he told her. "You're not going to lose me, I promise."

"You c-can't know that," said Hermione through a watery voice. Ron frowned at her words as she looked down at her hands.

"Hey," he said, taking her face in his hands and making sure her eyes focused on his. "Hermione, maybe I can't promise that specifically, but I can say that I'll never leave you. Yeah, I may go these long Auror missions, but I'll always come back."

Hermione smiled through her tears and he carefully kissed her lips for the first time in weeks. He broke away after a few seconds and grinned, looking down at her left hand, where the engagement ring that he had bought only months before glittered on her ring finger.

"Can't believe I haven't been around for this," he said, thinking of finally being the husband of Hermione Granger.

She smirked and put her head in her hand. "I haven't even started."

Ron looked up in disbelief. "Hermione Granger, not getting a head start on a project? It can't be true!"

She smiled. "It is. I haven't been able to focus at all while you've been away, on anything. It's been torture."

"Well, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."

"I hope so," she said, her brown eyes meeting his again. She finally looked convinced, and even content. It made Ron ecstatic inside.

Their moment was interrupted by a sudden Patronus that rushed into the room from the solid brick wall. A silvery boar formed before the eyes of the twelve Aurors.

"I'll be right back," Ron mumbled to Hermione as he temporarily left her bedside to join the rest of the Aurors around the boar.

The voice of Ernie Macmillan came out of the boar's mouth:

"_Second Tower has collapsed. Stay underground for awhile, the muggles are going mad. We'll give an all-clear when we can."_

The boar ran through the throng of Aurors and through the brick wall in a silvery light and was gone.

Ron was just fine with this decision; now he had time to take care of Hermione and make sure she healed all right. Despite Dean's diagnosis, he still believed something could've gone wrong in the healing process.

Before he could return to her, however, Seamus Finnigan pulled him aside by the arm and led him over to Dean and the other Aurors, which consisted of Dennis Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and many other former classmates who had chosen to become Aurors.

As they joined the small group, the Aurors looked up and stared at Ron as if he was an interesting piece of art.

"Ron, mate."

He looked at Seamus, who was fixing him with a very serious stare. "Mate, what's going on? What's happened to Hermione?"

Ron stared at him, and then at the other Aurors, who were staring back expectingly. He sighed and looked back and Hermione, who was now lying down on her cot in the corner of the room. He looked back at his fellow Aurors and spoke:

"She got hit. By a falling piece of cement. We were in front of the South Tower when it began to collapse. We barely made it out."

He felt tears welling in his eyes, but he wiped them away impatiently. He turned away and faced the wall, so as the Aurors couldn't see his face.

Seamus' voice seemed to drift from a great distance away. "What's she doing in America?"

"She apparated here," said Ron shortly. "Directly from London. She saw the planes hit on television and panicked."

A visible shift of uneasiness moved throughout the group when he mentioned the Apparation. All of the Aurors knew Hermione was brilliant, but they never had expected her to act so recklessly. Ron, who knew her better than any of them, wouldn't have guessed she had done it either.

Ron felt a hand on his shoulder and put his head in his hand as Seamus spoke. "She's going to be fine, Ron. Dean said so. Plus, it's _Hermione. _If she can't pull through, none of us can."

Ron thought of his words and slowly nodded. He looked up and twisted around to see Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot kneeling by Hermione's bedside and talking quietly to her.

He smiled and stood up, abandoning Seamus and rest, and heading toward Hermione once more.

All three of them looked up as he approached. Ernie and Terry immediately stood up and grinned down at Hermione.

"Feel better, Hermione."

"Yeah, Hermione, you'll pull through."

As they passed him, Terry, whom he barely conversed with, muttered to Ron quietly, "She's a brilliant girl, Ron. You're a really lucky bloke."

Ron grinned as he glanced at her. "I know."

As Ernie and Terry left, he reunited with Hermione in the corner of the room, this time dragging his own cot next to hers. "We have to stay underground," he told her, suddenly remembering the boar's message.

"I heard," she said. "But I don't care as long as I can be with you again."

Ron grinned and softly touched his lips to hers. "There's the Hermione I love."

* * *

><p><strong>18 September 2001<strong>

**11:51 AM**

"This is driving me mad, Hermione."

She looked over at Ron, who sat next to her on the airplane that was finally going to take them home to England. She smiled at the sight of his death grip on the armrests of his seat. It had been excruciatingly difficult to force him onto this one after the attacks in New York. It had been hard enough to force _herself_ to pull together all the courage she could muster to get on the plane. But they had spoken with the Ministry, and it would've taken another month to sort out transportation by Portkey; Apparating was completely out of the question for the both of them, and Flooing was just as dangerous as Apparating.

So as a result, Hermione had suggested flying by muggle airplane, which Ron had politely replied with an "are you mad?" response. Eventually, they convinced themselves that they couldn't waste another month in America, and plucked up all their courage to get on the plane.

It had been such a mad week. When the Aurors and Hermione were allowed out of the tube, they were met by a scene of chaos. The Towers were nothing but a huge mass of dust and debris, with people climbing over bricks and cement to dig out survivors.

Hermione had never seen such a frightening sight, but it only made her want to help all the survivors she could. When the Aurors spread out to do just that, she insisted she wanted to join, while Ron promptly refused because of her current condition. She replied that she was quite fine and could handle anything he could. After a long and heated argument, Ron finally allowed Hermione to help on the condition that she would go back underground if she got hurt again.

They spent the day finding survivors and getting them to the nearest ambulance. As wizards, they couldn't help them magically, but they could help manually by digging through the wreckage and helping whichever survivors they could.

It took them a week to get a flight out of New York, but once they did, Hermione was so glad she was going home. They had slept underground for a week, and she suddenly appreciated the job of an Auror for the first time. They truly had difficult living conditions, and their missions cut into some of the most important parts of their lives.

Now, Hermione looked over at Ron and carefully peeled his fingers off his armrest, lacing them through her own fingers. "It's going to be alright, Ron."

"You don't know that, Hermione."

There was a pause, and she looked down at her engagement ring absentmindedly, watching the colors flash in the sunlight streaming through the window. "Alright, maybe I don't. But that doesn't mean I can't make you _feel_ like everything is going to be alright."

At this, Ron chuckled and squeezed her hand. "Okay, I get it." He looked down at her left hand and took it in his. "We should probably start planning this thing, or it'll never happen."

Hermione looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "You don't think it'll happen with _me_ as the main planner?"

He laughed. "Fair enough." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed her to his side. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and she felt the warmth of his face radiate into her body.

"We're going home, Hermione."

She smiled and snuggled deeper into the nape of his neck, kissing it gently. "We are."


End file.
